


All In

by ididntsayitback



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Tether(s), Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lydia Martin Loves Stiles Stilinski, POV Lydia Martin, Porn With Plot, Step-siblings, Stiles Stilinski Has a Big Dick, a lot of tether talk, also very smutty, im not sorry about that though, this is so angsty im so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntsayitback/pseuds/ididntsayitback
Summary: Tonight, they are Gomez and Morticia Adams. Over the years, their costumes have been couple-y more often than not, so no one really questions their choice tonight. Still, she figures, for accuracy, they should have probably done Wednesday and Pugsley, who are, you know, siblings. Just like Lydia and Stiles are about to become, once Noah and Natalie seal the deal.Or, Stiles and Lydia fancy each other's pants off. So do the Sheriff and Natalie. It's not ideal.
Relationships: Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

Lydia chugs the rest of the wine in her cup and swallows, hard.

Tonight's party is bittersweet. It is the first one she and Stiles have properly hosted together, and Lydia has loved every second of planning it. Bouncing ideas off each other and finally settling on a colour scheme, going shopping for booze and snacks together, discussing what decorations to put where, arguing over which song should kick off the playlist (Lydia wanted Ariana; Stiles, Flo Milli), and arguing over whether they should allow Isaac to attend 'as a werewolf'. The party itself has been stupidly successful, with just over a hundred people showing up in costumes and with a lot of booze, and despite it being close to 4am, no less than a quarter of the people are still around, and the music is still going. She can see a very drunk Allison dancing to Tame Impala on the big coffee table, while Isaac amusedly watches and occasionally reaches for her to make sure she doesn't fall. Lydia is very pleased, she is.

On the other hand, the reason they are able to host this party together in the first place is because this is now Stiles' house, too. Not just Lydia's house, or Lydia's mum's house. It is also Stiles' and Stiles' dad's house. And that - that is bad news for so many reasons.

Lydia scans the room for Stiles, frowning. It doesn't take long for her eyes to find his across the room - he always seems to know when she is looking for him, and the way his head snaps up to face her as if she had called his name out loud makes something in her chest loosen. Sometimes, when he's in the near vicinity, she swears she can _feel_ his presence, like a warm extension of herself detached from her body that she is just faintly aware of at all times. Not for the first time, as they lock eyes, she wonders if he gets the same feeling, if that is why he always seems to find her, always seems to know when she needs him. As if on cue, he stands from his spot on the arm of the sofa, where he was sitting to chat to a group of lacrosse boys, and walks up toward her. The warm feeling in Lydia's stomach seems to expand the closer he gets, and the tug behind her ribcage becomes harder to ignore, to the point where she has to consciously stop herself from meeting him halfway.

She should really speak to Deaton about this. When he casually talked about them having an 'emotional tether', he failed to mention the many side-effects that pulling Stiles back from the literal dead would have on her life. At least once a week, Lydia has had a recurring nightmare in which Stiles is murdered, one way or another, and she screams so loud she watches as her own throat splashes across the room like it's been slit, Tarantino style. The first time it happened, she woke up and immediately vomited all over her bedroom floor. The second time, a very hangover and very concerned Stiles rushed into her room and held her as she sobbed the remains of the previous night's makeup onto his naked shoulder. Pressing her face against Stiles' naked skin, even if just his chest and shoulder, and listening to his very real heartbeat for a few minutes gave her her breath back and a newfound tranquillity made its way into her chest. That is, until Natalie came rushing through her door and she had to begrudgingly let go of him and rearrange their embrace into a more parent-friendly one. 

'Hey,' he greets her with a sweet smile once he's close enough. 'Everything OK?'

Lydia nods in response, smiling back as she reaches for his forehead to flick a stray strand of hair off his face. They have matching costumes tonight, as they have done for the past six years. This has become a tradition they work very hard to maintain, and because they keep their carefully-crafted outfits a secret until Halloween night, their friends speculate and Danny collects bets on it for weeks, every year. Two years ago, Scott was accused of cheating when he correctly guessed they would be dressing up as Daenerys and John Snow; the year before, Kira had maintained she should get her money back because her bet was 'close enough,' but Lydia refused to accept 'Ghostbusters' as a substitute for Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Tonight, once again making Danny a ridiculous amount of money, they are Gomez and Morticia Adams. Lydia is ridiculously proud of how good they look, especially when they are standing together like this. She noticed the dark look in his eyes when he saw her in this long, slick, black wig and this skintight velvet black dress, and knows she must have looked at him no different when he walked into her room in a full three-piece tuxedo, eyes twinkling with mirth as if he knew how good he looked. Over the years, the costumes have been couple-y more often than not, so no one really questions their choice tonight; still, she figures, for accuracy, they should have probably done Wednesday and Pugsley, who are, you know, siblings. Just like Lydia and Stiles are about to become, once Noah and Natalie seal the deal. 

Stiles frowns as he steps closer, likely noticing the troubling look behind her eyes, and his hand reaches for her waist as if to physically steady her. It works, of course. 'What's up?'

'Nothing,' she shakes her head, letting one of her hands come up to his chest, and while her originally intention had been to push him off - people are near - she ends up playing with his bowtie. He looks so _handsome_ tonight, a rosy tint on his cheeks from all the wine but eyes still focused and searching Lydia's face for answers. It's so unfair. She wants to take him upstairs and have him _take her_. She wants his head between her legs; wants to watch his face when he first gets inside her, pressing his eyes closed like it takes him a minute to adapt to how good she feels around him; she wants to feel the drag of his cock, in and out of her; the rhythm he finds everytime he gets behind her, with a hand on her clit and the other a vice-like grip on her hip; she wants him, a sweaty mess who smirks at her like he belongs there and knows she'd let him do whatever he wanted. She wants to kiss him all night, until their lips are raw and their jaws hurt, and then wants his gentle fingers inside her again and again until she falls asleep. He raises an eyebrow, eyes suddenly darker as if he can read her mind. Lydia realises she's subconsciouly pulled him closer, their chests flush against each other, which might also have given her away. She clears her throat and takes a step back, blushing. 'I'm getting a bit tired. Do you think it's time to call it?'

He starts nodding before she's finished speaking, 'Yeah, yep. It's past four. Far later than we thought.' He then pulls his phone out of his pocket, pausing the music, and turns to face the living room as the remaining crowd boos him. 'Alright, everyone. It's been a pleasure having you around, but we're gonna need you all to fuck off now.'

He laughs at everyone's final jokes, hands everyone their coats back, and makes sure everyone has a means to get back home safely, like the perfectly good host Lydia has taught him to be. Tonight, all Lydia can do is watch him. 

Natalie and the Sheriff have graciously agreed to stay the night at the Stilinskis' old residency, the one the Sheriff keeps trying to put on the market and the one Stiles keeps logging into the Sheriff's account to mark as 'sold.' Lydia suspects, from the fact the Sheriff hasn't shouted at Stiles yet or even attempted to change his password, that he might be less committed to selling the house than he pretends to be.

Regardless, Lydia is grateful the transaction has not been done yet because they would have not been able to throw this party otherwise, and also because a small, selfish, quiet part of her brain keeps hoping their engagement falls through so the Stilinskis can go back to living in a separate house and she can continue to explore her feelings for her step-brother-to-be without the prospect of the wedding always looming over her head.

Having the house to themselves might be more challenging than she first assumed it to be, however.

Stiles and Lydia agreed to stop having sex nearly three weeks ago. Stiles had suggested it first, and frankly, pride is the only thing keeping Lydia from jumping him every time he looks at her a certain way. To his credit, Lydia had been lying on his chest, breathing deeply after having come twice on his fingers and then once on his cock, and he had been making some ridiculous, stupid joke when she had started crying. Lydia has never had to keep a relationship secret before, and while the first handful of times they made out in the kitchen with both their parents in the adjacent room were really hot, and the time Stiles had to cover her mouth with his hand to stop her moaning as he pounded inside of her in the middle of the night still colours her wet dreams, the whole emotional aspect of their relationship had been taking its toll on her.

Lydia _loves_ Stiles Stilinski. She is so in love with him, the thought of having to go to a different college and finding out about him dating some other girl through a Facebook relationship status makes her want to be sick. Stiles is still waiting to hear back from Stanford because he didn't submit an early application like Lydia did, something she will hold against him for the rest of his life, she thinks.

She is so in love with him, she sometimes finds herself in bed, smiling at her ceiling like a little schoolgirl with a crush, just thinking about the way his eyes change colour in the sun, or the tiny moles peppered across the side of his neck, or the way he searched for her in the crowd so he could see her reaction after he scored a goal in the last game, or the way he cackled at some witty remark she made in class the day before. This isn't even taking into consideration everything that Lydia chalks up to their supernatural bond, but some things she isn't sure she can file into one category or the other, like the strong impulse she gets to reach for his hand every time they are walking side by side, or the way having him inside her makes her feel so full and complete she almost wants him to stay there forever.

Kissing in corners and having quiet, secret sex was never going to be enough. So yes, okay, in theory, Lydia agrees that it's for the best if they just don't have sex. At least, until they figure out what is going on with them, and their families, and his college applications. If they're never going to be together, she thinks it would be easier to have less, rather than more, mental images of the face Stiles pulls when he comes. 

Lydia is already putting empty cans into trash bags when she feels a pair of hands settling on her hips and a broad chest pressing against her back. 'We can do this in the morning.' She is determined not to let this get to her, so she huffs and starts grabbing the wine bottles, too, but Stiles easily stops the movement of her hand with one of his and turns her body around to face him. 'Lyds, come on. It's late.' There is a hint of concern on his face, like he can tell something is bothering her. He looks so soft, his lips so close to hers all Lydia would have to do is gently lean forward, and she'd be kissing him.

Maybe it's the wine already making its way around her bloodstream, or maybe it's the way he's looking at her lips like he's never seen them before, or maybe it's the three weeks worth of the equivalent of blue balls that people with vaginas get (Lydia is a bit too distracted to remember the proper term), but she can't help herself before the words come out of her lips. 'I really want to have sex.'

The effect this has on Stiles is so immediate it should be funny, but all Lydia can do is stare as he presses his eyes closed, face scrunched up as if in pain. 'Lydia-'

'I know what we said.'

'We agreed-' he looks away for a moment as if to avoid Lydia's eyes. She wants to bite his face off. In a sexy way.

'We agreed!' Lydia nods, reaching for his face so she can make him look at her, and nearly loses her train of thought when her eyes lock with his serious, darkened ones. 'We did. And I still think it's for the best. But you look so good, right now, and I can't stop thinking about it. All night, I've been thinking about-,' the rest of her words disappear into his mouth as he grabs the sides of her face with both hands, the kiss heated and intense from the start. Lydia lets herself be hoisted onto the dining table, her hands reflexively wrapping around his neck and one of her legs around his waist to keep him close. Lydia just wants him close.

He coaxes her lips open, his tongue briefly meeting hers before finding the roof of her mouth, and Lydia feels breathless. When they part, they are both panting, one of Stiles' hands leaving her face to softly trail down her exposed neck and cleavage, then lightly cupping her breast. He's still staring at his own hand like he had thought he would never get to touch Lydia’s breast again, and when he speaks his voice is so hoarse the sound seems to travel directly down to Lydia's lower stomach.

'Lydia, I need you to tell me what to do.' He pecks her lips once, twice, three times. His hand leaves Lydia's breast and continues travelling further down her side until he reaches the top of the slit of her velvet dress, his fingers teasingly sliding beneath the fabric only to come out again. 'I can't- I'm not going to say no,' he looks back up at her face with earnest intensity behind his eyes. 'I can't do that, you know I can't.'

She frowns as she tightens her arms around his neck. 'You can't put this all on me. I can't make all the decisions.'

She can see his Adam's apple bob up and down his throat before he slowly licks his lips, his eyes avoiding hers again. His hand returns to her hip, then her ribs when he encircles her abdomen so his thumb is gently rubbing the underside of her breast. There was a time when such a small touch wouldn't immediately drive Lydia insane with want, but she hasn’t had sex in three weeks and she can just about feel his cock pressing against her hip through his trousers. 'Lydia,' he sounds so breathless, it makes Lydia hold her own breath, 'I will do whatever you want me to. Anything you want. If you want me to sleep in my bed, I can, and we never have to talk about this again. If you want me to hold you to sleep, fully clothed, I can also do that, and I promise I'll be good. Tux and all.' He offers her a small smile at that, like he knows he's being ridiculous and she should tease him about it, but all Lydia does is continue to hold her breath. 

'But Lydia,' he gently holds her chin up so he is almost speaking into her mouth, 'if you want me to fuck you, I will. I know what we agreed. I don’t care. Whatever you want to do after, we can do. We can pretend it didn't happen, or we can talk it into the ground, I don't mind. I'm not going to say no.'

Lydia looks back down at his chest, her hands coyly brushing the buttons of his shirt as if she hasn't already made a decision. She bites her lip for a moment, unable to stop herself from smiling. 'So you'll do anything I ask?'

Stiles smiles back, understanding the dynamic has changed. He pecks her lips again like he can't quite help it and briefly lets go of her so he can shrug his suit jacket off, then moves back closer, letting his hand cup her entire breast now, his thumb gently pressing on the skin not covered by her dress. 'Anything you ask.'

She offers him a shy smile, heart beating fast with anticipation. 'I want you to put your hand on my mouth while you fuck me. Even though we don't need to be quiet, I want- I want you be rough with me, please, Stiles?'

The groan that leaves Stiles' lips makes Lydia wrap her other leg around him and press both ankles against his back, desperate to get some friction. He moves so that she is sitting on his hands, and he kneads her bum through the velvety fabric of her dress, licking rather than kissing into her neck as he quietly moans her name.

She can't help her voice going a few octaves higher and she closes her eyes when he lifts her off the table so he can press her against him, the feel of him hard against her lower stomach making her see spots behind her eyes. 'I want you to fuck me, Stiles. Please? I want you inside me.'

His hands swiftly move down to hold the underside of both her thighs, keeping her legs open so he can start grinding against her in earnest. Lydia slides her dress to the side so the slit falls right between her legs, and Stiles lifts it up higher so her red silky panties are on show. They lock eyes for a moment and share a breathless smile over their successful teamwork, before her hand travels down, cupping the bulge in his trousers for a moment.

Stiles closes his eyes as his mouth goes slack with pleasure, and Lydia wants him so bad she could _cry._ To illustrate her feelings, she whines a little, pulling on the neck of his shirt because, while she is unable to focus enough to unbutton it, she is very sure she wants it off.

A loud, crackling sound echoes through the house, so loud it gives Lydia a shiver. Stiles instinctively wraps his arms around her back, as if to protect her from some invisible threat. Wide-eyed, they look at each other in complete silence for a moment before a quiet, 'oh, fuck,' easily identifiable as Greenberg, cuts through the night. 

Lydia and Stiles both let out a sigh of relief and Stiles sits Lydia back down, carefully pulling her dress down to cover her thighs before heading outside without a word. Lydia takes a deep breath before following him out and finds Stiles' very drunk fellow lacrosse player splayed out on the grass by the pool, looking like he's fallen off the tool shed roof. Stiles is already sitting beside him, calming speaking into his phone while Greenberg groans in pain and holds his leg close to his chest. 'I think I fell asleep on the roof? I woke up and I was- falling?'

Stiles looks up at her as he says Lydia's address to the first responder on the phone, complete with zipcode without a second's hesitation. She can't help but smile at him - Stiles has known her address by heart for years now, but the confidence with which he is speaking right now is making him look so attractive, still in his white shirt and tuxedo trousers, looking like a hot businessman turned first aider. There’s a hint of Lydia’s red lipstick on his jaw, and he just looks so fucking hot.

Lydia retreats into the house to make Greenberg a cup of tea and, quite frankly, to try and get herself together. The pulsing between her legs is not going away, however, so once the ambulance arrives and Stiles agrees to ride with Greenberg to the hospital, she wastes no time getting out of her clothes and into the shower. 

As soon as she closes her eyes under the spray of water, she thinks about how Stiles had confidently closed the space between them and quickly kissed her on the lips as a goodbye before jumping into the back of the ambulance. She tries to rationalise it - the paramedics don't know them, or anything about them. Greenberg had been long gone on the gurney, passed out from a mixture of alcohol and the drugs being provided to him. But no matter how much she tries, she can't help but feel a little freaked out about it. They have never kissed in public before, and the complete lack of hesitation on his face, the softness and casualness of the kiss, barely more than a peck, felt like it belonged to a couple in a long-term relationship. That couldn't be further from the truth, but it felt good. It felt _really_ good. Stiles kissed her as if to say see you soon, as if to say _kiss you again soon_. And Lydia knows she shouldn't, but she really, really hopes he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am once again writing explicit fanfiction about a show that ended in 2017, rather than working on my very urgent, very 2020 dissertation. If you liked this even a tiny bit please leave kudos/comments so I know at least someone else is enjoying my procrastination project.


	2. Chapter 2

It is just before 7am when a pair of soft lips gently land on her forehead. She opens her eyes, not without difficulty, and finds an exhausted-looking Stiles sitting on the edge of her bed, the first buttons of his shirt undone. She can't help but smile at the sight of him - he looks so soft, his eyes slightly hooded with sleep and his hair everywhere, probably from how much he's been threading his hands through it to keep himself awake. 'Sorry,' he whispers with a slight wince, 'I just got back. I didn't want to wake you, but I also really want to sleep here tonight, and thought it'd be weird if I got in your bed while you were asleep.'

Lydia offers him a sleepy smile and rolls to the side to give him space to slide under the covers. Her eyelids are heavy with sleep but she wants to wait for him, so she fights to keep them open so she can watch as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders, then discarding his trousers before finally climbing into bed in nothing but his underwear. Once he is under the covers, she turns her back to him and tugs on his arm so that he gets in her preferred spooning position. His arm finally wraps around her waist and he pulls her flush against his chest, his skin warm and firm behind her, and he begins lazily kissing down her neck. His lips are soft and unassuming, but they still set goosebumps off all over her arms and chest. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and Lydia lets her eyes close again, sighing with contentment. It's not very often they get to share a bed, so she's glad he chose to wake her rather than going back to his room.

'Is Greenberg OK?' She faintly asks, fighting the pull of sleep.

Stiles hums back, 'Didn't even have a concussion. Just drunk, I think.' Lydia chuckles lightly at that, a sleepy hum escaping her lips when Stiles gently cups her breast through her pyjama top. He sighs. 'I'm so tired.'

Lydia nods, mirroring his yawn. 'Me too.'

'Was an amazing party, though, wasn't it?'

'It was,' she chuckles. 'Really good.'

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but suddenly the sun rudely coming through her curtains is too bright on her eyes and she turns on her now empty bed. It's nearly midday, and judging by the noises coming from downstairs, Noah and Natalie are back. Shit, oh, _shit_ , she and Stiles were meant to have cleaned everything up by the time their parents were back. 

She jumps out of bed and is out the door like a girl on a mission, rushing down the stairs. The living room looks perfectly clean and tidy, almost as if she had dreamed up the entire party, like the entire lacrosse team hadn't been chanting at each other to chug their drinks on that sofa around midnight, or like Allison hadn't spilled everyone's plastic glasses over that dining table just before two o'clock, despite Isaac's best efforts to stop her from doing so. The Sheriff is leaning on that very table, which is now looking sparkling clean, and he's speaking to his son, who looks a lot more awake than Lydia thinks is reasonable.

They both turn to face her as she comes in. Stiles playfully winks at her with a smile and turns back to his father. 'I just think there's no rush, you know? I have all the stuff I need for now, and it's not like we're gonna sell it any time soon.'

'And why is that, son?' Noah does not sound entirely unamused, but Lydia still chooses to leave them to have that conversation on their own. She heads out to the garden and finds only a handful of cans have been left on the grass, like Stiles started tidying and got tired halfway through. She doesn't blame him, though, it's scorching hot for October. November, now, she thinks to herself. Only three more months until the wedding.

She wonders how long he's been up. It's just after midday so he can't have had that much sleep regardless, but of course he wouldn't have woken her up to help with the cleaning. Stiles is never softer with her than when she is falling asleep, or waking up, like she's a baby that needs her full twelve hours. Lydia wishes Stiles was equally as respectful of his own sleep patterns.

She hears the door open and shut again behind her, then footsteps approaching her end of the garden.

She turns to face a coyly smiling Stiles who stands in front of her, arms crossed on his chest. 'Hey.'

'Hey,' she smiles back. 'Sorry I didn't help with the cleaning. You should've woken me up.'

Stiles shakes his head, chuckling. 'But you looked so cute.'

Lydia mock-frowns in response. 'Do I not look cute when I'm awake?'

That stops Stiles' laugh, and he drags his hand through his hair, eyes suddenly serious. 'You know I think you're always beautiful.'

The air seems to grow thicker around Lydia as she swallows, the energy between them shifting so quickly it should give her whiplash. Before she can think of something to say, he speaks again. 'Wanna go for a drive?'

Lydia blinks, surprised. 'You mean, like- now?'

Stiles quickly nods, then looks down at her current attire and seems to reconsider, 'You can get changed, obviously, there's- there's no rush.'

All Lydia can do is nod back, and then she's jogging back into the house. 

It's not like she's forgotten what happened last night - she doesn't think she ever will - but she also didn't think it would make things weird between them. It's not like Stiles hasn't heard Lydia talk dirty before. She's asked for all sorts of things over the last ten months or so, certainly worse things than what she asked for last night. 'We can talk it into the ground,' he had said, and Lydia really hopes he didn't _mean that._ She doesn't think they need to talk about it at all.

So what? They made out for a bit. She doesn't necessarily regret the night before, Lydia thinks as she slips into a light knitted jumper and a skirt. Sure, it wasn't ideal of her to ask for sex, not when they'd explicitly _agreed_ not to have any, but she had really, really wanted it. Hopefully Stiles agrees to pretend she never asked at all, and they can carry on as they were. 

She then considers how resigned he had looked almost immediately after she'd asked, how he had held her as if in awe, as if he had thought he would never get to do it again. How quickly he'd given in, how quickly he'd hardened under her touch. The way he'd kissed her, like a man coming up for air. 

Lydia closes her eyes momentarily, telling herself to get it together. Maybe if he had actually fucked her last night she wouldn't be getting wet at the mere thought of him this early in the afternoon. But alas, he had not, and now he wants to take her for a drive. A drive to _where?_

When she emerges from her room again, Stiles is sat on the steps to the garden, pulling on his fingers. He's nervous, Lydia thinks, her stomach immediately sinking. So they _are_ talking about it, then.

'Stiles.'

He lifts his head to meet her eyes and tilts it questioningly. 'You ready?' 

She nods, all too aware of how difficult swallowing has become in the last few seconds, and follows him out of the house. He walks up to her side of the car first, like he always does, and unlocks the door for her before walking around to his own door.

Lydia plays with the hem of her skirt for something to do with her hands, itching to turn the radio on even though she knows it would be no use. If Stiles wants to talk, they will talk.

He starts the car in silence and pulls out of the driveway, sneaking a few glances at her. They're well into the main road when he speaks. 'You okay?'

She figures she must be looking a bit anxious, and the tips of her fingers feel frozen even as she continues to play with the fabric of her skirt. 'Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?' She risks a look at him and he's looking right at her, frowning like he doesn't believe her.

'Lydia, the last time we had sex we were both a bit worse for wear. You were crying on my chest. I nearly failed Chem.'

'We didn't have sex though.' She quickly interrupts.

'No, I know. We didn't,' he clears his throat, looking back at the road. 'But we wanted to.'

Lydia feels her cheeks heat up, surprised. She bites her lip, smiling despite herself. 'Yeah, I guess.'

Stiles quickly glances at her, mirroring her smile. He dryly chuckles after a moment. 'I mean, I always want to. Obviously. But last night-'

'We almost did,' she nods, looking down with a smile. Hearing Stiles say he wants her never gets old, even when they're not allowed to do anything about it.

'We almost did,' he repeats, tapping onto the wheel while staring at the car in front of them. Lydia needs him to say whatever he wants to say now, and put some music on so she can stop feeling like she's about to jump out of her skin. Then, still looking ahead, one of Stiles' hands finds her knee, making Lydia quietly gasp, and gently squeezes. Three weeks, she tells herself. It's okay to feel turned on by this. It's been _three weeks._

His hand is still gentle when he lifts it higher up onto her thigh, the movement pushing the fabric of her skirt up, his fingers soft on her inner thigh, his thumb brushing the outer side. Stiles is always touchy-feely with her, hugs her close to his chest often, caresses her arm when they're sitting in class, holds onto her waist when they're walking side by side. But he's never done _this_ , not unless he was teasing her before fingering her to tears, which, while not uncommon, has not happened for a while now. She sees him bite his lip from the corner of her eye, and she finally catches up with him: Stiles doesn't want to talk about it. He wants to have sex. They're not driving anywhere, they're just getting away. 

The realisation hits her so hard she has to grab onto his arm, with both hands, like she's on a rollercoaster ride. She can hear the noise his neck makes when he turns to look at her, surprised. 'Lydia?'

'I'm sorry.' She laughs, eyes momentarily closing, her hands not letting go of his arm even as his leaves her thigh. 'I wasn't expecting that. I'm sorry.'

He barely stops looking at her as he pulls into the country road on the right, all but speeding down until they can no longer see the main road, and he parks down the side. He turns his body fully to face her, his arm still safely tucked in between Lydia's hands. He reaches for her face with his free hand, gently cupping her cheek. 'Is this okay? Did I- I just thought,' he takes a deep breath as if trying to get his bearings. 'When we kissed, last night,' he looks at her intently like he's checking she remembers that. Lydia just nods to encourage him to continue. 'We were- rudely interrupted,' he says, offering her a tight-lipped smile.

Lydia briefly slips out of his embrace to unbuckle her seat belt so she can fully turn to face him, too, and tucks her legs under herself. 'We were,' she agrees, and grabs onto his arm again. She realises he is looking at her expectantly, like he has nothing more to say, and she can't help but release a cackle. 'Stiles-'

Sitting in the Jeep with Stiles, parked by the side of one of the country roads leading towards the forest, is giving her flashbacks to how this all started. Over ten months ago now, they had been bickering about nothing on their way to school. Lydia had gotten used to having Stiles pick her up for school, even though it wasn't really that convenient for him at all. At this point, they had only kissed twice - once, in the locker room, Lydia had all but jumped Stiles to stop him from having a panic attack; the other time, weeks after, Lydia had invited the boys and Allison over for a casual pool party that had ended with Stiles pressing her against the pool wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, one of his hands on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back as if he needed her _closer_ , his obvious erection tenting the front of his swimming shorts. She had been teasing him for weeks - sitting on his lap, drawing on his arm during class where she knew he was most ticklish, wearing his shirt about just to see the way his eyes darkened. She had kissed him first, and as badly as she wanted to do it again, she had to have him make the next move. And that he did, the moment the others said their goodbyes and left them alone in the pool.

Natalie and Noah had been well into their own relationship by then, and they developed an unspoken agreement that this couldn't be a _thing_ , that they couldn't tell _anybody._ The moment Lydia slowly and teasingly, as if to put on a show, put her legs up on the dashboard, skirt riding up her thighs as she went, Stiles had taken a sharp turn and driven down the country lanes. Lydia remembers very little after that, but she remembers being pulled onto his lap, remembers the urgency she felt as she tugged his t-shirt off, how foolish she had been to think he was only talented with his fingers (it took another three days before Stiles went down on Lydia for the first time, lying on the kitchen floor, and she isn't ashamed to admit she still wants to write _books_ about his mouth). She remembers fumbling around the dashboard before realising they didn't have any condoms to hand; remembers being so wet, dragging herself over his length; remembers moaning into his ear that _it doesn't matter, Stiles, I don't care, I'm on the pill;_ remembers the first time she felt him fully inside her and how nothing has ever compared since. She remembers how fun it used to be, how dangerous and forbidden, before her feelings had caught up with her and the mere thought of not being with him started making her chest tighten. 

'Do you remember?' She slowly drags her hand up and down his arm, maintaining eye contact. 'The last time we were here?'

Stiles scoffs in response, like she has deeply insulted him. 'Do I remember?'

Lydia bites her lip, smiling. 'We were so reckless.' He pulls on her arms now, tugging her towards him until she is comfortably straddling him. She chuckles, playfully massaging his shoulders. 'Stiles-' 

'Just-' he looks pained for a moment, hands wrapping around her back to press her closer until her head is safely tucked under his chin. 'Let me hold you, please.'

She goes quiet, understanding, and softly pecks the side of his neck she can reach. They stay like this, with Stiles' arms gently sheltering her from the world, soft kisses pressed on Lydia's hair and Stiles' shoulder, for what feels like an eternity but not long enough at the same time. Never long enough.

Finally, he's the one to break the silence. 'I don't know what I thought I was doing,' he sounds a bit embarrassed, and Lydia's head shoots up to look at him. He's got a small smile on his face, like he gets when he thinks he's done something wrong. His right hand moves so it's brushing up and down her thigh. 'I was so- I needed to touch you, today. So badly, I just needed to-'

'I know,' she stops him with a palm on his heart and a soft kiss on the cheek and he closes his eyes, leaning into her. She doesn't move away, keeping her lips on the corner of his mouth as she speaks. 'Me too. I really needed this.' She thinks of something, not for the first time, and decides to share it with Stiles: 'Sometimes, I get this- this need, to hold you and be held by you. To be close to you.' Her cheeks feel like they're on fire as she battles through the feeling of vulnerability that follows every time she tells him something like this. Stiles' hands brush up and down her back encouragingly. 'It confuses me, sometimes, how strong it can be. It feels like- like, if I don't touch you immediately, I will pass out.' She chuckles self-deprecatingly, realising how ridiculous that sounds. 'Well, not pass out, but-'

'I feel the same way,' he says, opening his eyes. Their faces are so close it's hard for her to stare into his eyes properly, but she can see a layer of sheen covering them and a rush of emotion overcomes her. 'Lydia, I- I get that _all the time_. Touching you, sometimes, it feels so natural to me, like- it feels like fidgeting, or tapping my foot-' he lets out a wet laugh, and Lydia stares at him in what she's sure is poorly concealed awe. 'Not that you're a- that's just my ADHD, but- yeah. I don't know how else to explain it. Not touching you feels wrong, like I'm- this is how hard I imagine quitting smoking must be. I think about touching you all the time. I can barely stop myself, sometimes.'

Lydia nods vigorously, encouraged by his agreement. 'Yes! Do you ever- sometimes, it's so strong I get kinda- like, kinda turned on?' She presses her eyes closed, not sure she can believe what she just said.

'No, totally! All the time,' he laughs and she opens her eyes again, relieved, 'I sometimes get a bit confused, like, do I need to touch you and be close to you, or do I just really wanna-'

'Fuck me?' she finishes the sentence for him and they stare at each other for all of two seconds before both bursting into laughter.

Lydia covers her face, tears soon flowing from her eyes from how hard she is laughing. Stiles' laugh is so contagious, she thinks she's stopped laughing but then hears him snort and she's cackling again. 

'Oh my god,' she says, her chest shaking with it.

'I love you,' he says, mid laugh, and then immediately takes a huge breath in like he's realised what he's said too late.

Lydia's jaw drops open, and she can do nothing but look at him as he visibly panics, hands shooting up as if he's defending himself from some accusation, 'oh my god, I didn't mean-' he shakes his head, takes an extra moment to compose himself, 'No, I- I meant it, I just didn't mean to _say it_ , then. Wow. Oh my god.'

Tears still prickling her eyes, Lydia can't help a noise that feels halfway like a laugh and a sob. They stare for another moment or two, and burst out laughing again. This time, she ends up wrapping her arms around his neck and hiding her face under his chin. She can't remember the last time she laughed this hard while sober, but really, none of this is funny, it's just all a bit too ridiculous. Stiles just said he _loves_ her.

'Oh my god, Stiles.' She emerges from the crook of his neck, mascara streaming down her face.

'I know. I'm so sorry,' he's grinning so wide she really can't believe he means that one bit.

'You should've just fucked me,' she uses her fingers to try and wipe the makeup off her face and sighs at the amount of black eyeliner staining them.

'I know. I should've.' His voice is still playful, but his breath is beginning to even out and his chest is still again. Without thinking, Lydia leans down and pressed a kiss just below his Adam's apple, then another one on the right side, another one on the left side. Stiles' hands reach for her face to lift it so he can smash his lips against hers. She sighs into it, like _yes_ , finally, and kisses back just as fervently. 

They sit like this for a few minutes, tongues battling for dominance, Lydia slowly moving her hips back and forth to try and get some friction, Stiles' hands moving from her cheeks down to her hips and then down to her bum, squeezing. She moans into his mouth, unable to break away - every movement of his lips, his tongue, his face against hers, is so intoxicating, and she might have only kissed him last night but she's _missed this_. 

They finally break apart for a moment, foreheads leaning against each other, and Stiles starts pecking her lips, as if he's too breathless to properly kiss her but can't stay away. She smiles into it, heartily laughing again when he just doesn't stop. 'Stiles!' He finally relents, letting out a content sigh after noisily kissing her cheek.

'What are we gonna do?' He asks after a moment, his tone suddenly melancholic.

The reality of it all comes rushing back into Lydia's brain and hits her like a ton of bricks. They're not supposed to be doing this at all. His dad and her mum are getting married, for god's sake, in just about three months. Stiles is meant to be her brother-in-law, not whatever this is.

'Hey,' Stiles cradles her face, noticing the change in her breathing and the sudden downturn of her lips. 'Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry I said that. Stay with me. Just sit here with me, for now, okay?' The softness in his voice brings a knot to Lydia's throat and suddenly it's hard to breathe, tears returning to her eyes as she avoids looking into Stiles'. 'Hey, look at me. Lydia, look at me.'

She begrudgingly does, and can't help but pout at him as she does. 'Lydia, it's okay. Let's just sit. This is nice, yeah? Let's just sit and not think about anything else. Okay?' She nods, if only to appease the stressed look in his eyes, and returns to her spot in the crook of his neck. 'We will figure it all out. Let's just sit.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> making myself cry all december 2020 apparently!


End file.
